Chapter 8 Don't Push Me

As soon as he woke up, Mister Cold gasped. In a flash, the man looked at the floor near the heater. When he found Amber still lying there, only then he could breathe in relief. "Thank God," he muttered subconsciously. Without any noise, Mr. Cold came over and checked. However, when he saw a reddened face, his eyes widened again. "Amber?" he called, pulling the woman's shoulder. Unexpectedly, Amber's back fell and her head drooped helplessly. The woman's lips were pale, as sweat trickled down her forehead. Witnessing it, the man automatically touched Amber's cheek. "Good grief! Why are you burning?” After shaking the eyeballs for a moment, Mister Cold rushed into the bedroom. With furrowed brows, he looked for decent clothes among the piles of clothes. However, after a few seconds, no one had been selected. Not wanting to waste time, the man finally opened the wardrobe and took a white sweater from the red box. Finished dressing Amber, Mr. Cold moved the woman to the couch. After stretching the blanket, he went to get a basin of water and a towel. "Why do you always trouble me?" the man sighed while placing a wet towel on Amber's forehead. For the next few minutes, Mr. Cold sat by the woman's side. Although his heart was angry and filled with hatred, he remained aware that Amber's safety was his responsibility. *** When she woke up, Amber was surprised by the warm hand on her cheek. When she saw Mister Cold, her astonishment was doubled. "What are you doing?" the woman asked almost inaudibly. "You had a fever this morning, but now it has subsided," the man explained as he took a cup from the table near the couch. “Drink it! You will feel better.” Instead of welcoming the help, Amber furrowed her brows and removed the blanket. As soon as she saw the white sweater, she sighed in disbelief. "Why am I wearing this?" "Your clothes are wet and I have nothing else to give you," the helper explained awkwardly. "Did you forget? You berated me for touching this sweater yesterday," the woman who was tired of being scolded, inquired. "Don’t worry. I'm not going to say anything," the man said before pushing the cup closer. "Now drink this tea." With an even expression, Amber ignored Mr. Cold's offer. She stood up and pulled back the window blinds. After finding a white coat on the clothesline, her feet moved towards the door. "Where are you going?" the man asked in surprise. "Keep the promise. I will not bother you anymore." Gritting his teeth, Mr. Cold put down the cup and grabbed the woman's arm. "I'm not bothered. You don't have to go." "I feel uncomfortable being here," Amber argued as she turned around and jerked her hand away. "But you haven't fully recovered," the man replied, exuding seriousness. "You won't last more than an hour out there. Besides, it's almost night." Unexpectedly, the woman stepped forward and stared at Mister Cold intently. "That's none of your business.” A second later, she walked towards the door. Annoyed that Amber refused to comply, the man snorted. Once again, he grabbed the woman's arm. “Can't you stop bothering me? You think it's easy to carry you through the snow?" "I didn't ask you to save me. You don't have to feel guilty if I freeze to death outside your house. I know you don't really care about me." After arguing, Amber brushed off the hand that was holding her. However, just as she was about to take a step, the man grabbed her waist and dragged her back. "Hey! Let me go! Why did you forbid me to leave?” the woman screamed while kicking. "Because I don't want to be a murderer," Mr. Cold answered while walking to the couch. Amber's resistance meant nothing to him. "Non sense! You are a cannibal. You're a murderer," the woman groaned as she pushed the strong arm wrapped around her stomach. After lowering Amber on the couch, Mr. Cold pressed the woman's shoulder to keep her from moving anywhere. Tilting his head, he snorted lightly. "You are an idiot, apparently. Do you really believe that I am a cannibal?” "Isn't the evidence clear? You have no mercy, you collect the bones of your victims, and you drink blood." Hearing the spontaneous explanation, the man laughed dryly. "How could you be so stupid?" he mumbled before leaving and returning with a bottle. "What do you want?" Amber was confused to why Mr. Cold brought "blood" in front of her. "Drink it!" While furrowing her brows, Amber brushed the bottle away from her mouth. "Don’t push me! I'm not a cannibal." Losing control, Mr. Cold grabbed the woman's chin. As Amber struggled, he poured the red liquid from the bottle. The man didn't care if his white sweater was stained. Most importantly, Amber no longer accused him of drinking blood. “Yuck! What is this?" the woman asked, wiping her mouth with her hand. "A mix of lingonberries and blueberries," Mr. Cold answered as he grabbed a towel and began to wipe the spill on Amber's sweater. "Hey!" The woman slapped the man's hand and snatching the towel. "You can't touch me!" Not wanting to argue, the man rolled his eyes. In fact, he could claim to have memorized every curve of the woman's body. "So, you've been tricking me all this time? You're not a cannibal?" Amber inquired with a faint frown. "I never lied to you. You're the one who concluded it," Mr. Cold replied while raising an eyebrow. "Besides, if I were a cannibal, you wouldn't be alive." "But you once said that I should be grateful, you hadn’t eaten me," the pale-lipped woman objected. Narrowing his eyes, the man brought his face closer to Amber. "How old are you? Don't you understand what a man means when he says that to a woman? I really can eat you." Subconsciously, Amber held her breath and swallowed hard. It was the first time she looked at Mister Cold's green eyes that intent. However, her fear of the man only increased. "If you don't like my presence, then why are you making fun of me?" Amber asked in a depressed voice. “If you had helped me from the start, I would not be in this cottage anymore. I might have been with someone else or maybe Adam Smith.” The man's expression suddenly turned stiff again. A strange feeling just attacked his heart. After a moment of silence, he said, “I will go to buy supplies in the closest town tomorrow. If you want, you can come with me." In an instant, Amber's eyes sparkled. "Are you serious? Of course I want. There must be someone willing to help me there. He's going to take me to Adam Smith. My coming to this country won’t be in vain.” Mister Cold had never seen such bright hope on the woman's face. However, that look only gave him bigger tightness in the chest. “Then drink that tea and go back to rest. I'll prepare dinner," the owner of the cottage said flatly. As the man left, Amber curved a small smile. "Thank you." Not expecting to hear those words, Mister Cold froze. “Thank you for saving and taking care of me. I will definitely pay for your kindness later," the pale woman said sincerely. After a nod, the man walked fast into the kitchen. He couldn’t deny that something really felt stuck in his heart. In two years, he had never felt anything like it. “I should be happy that stupid woman is leaving. My life can be peaceful again. But, why do I feel uneasy?” he thought before letting out a faint sigh. "Come on, Adam. Amber is a woman who destroys people's relationships. You can't pity her. You are not Adam Smith you used to be.”